“I knew you were going to say that. I do not want to fight you. But I am compelled to.”
Harry thought about what she had said, then thought about what someone else had said about her.
Belle sensed his thoughts. It was like a light going off inside him. Weeks ago, it would have burned her; now it was like a warm fire on a damp night. She snuggled closer.
“Belle, I once had a conversation with a man about you. He told me, and I quote,” he used the gift of memory the speaker sword had given him, “‘She has some remarkable redeeming qualities, and could help many if she turned into the right streams.’ I believe him. He is pretty wise and has an amazing ability to see into people.”
This time Belle stopped dancing. She tilted her head back and pinned Harry with her stare. “Who told you that?” She knew but didn’t want to know and so asked even though she didn’t want to hear.
“The dragon rider King; you might know him as the North Star, or by another name. Not sure what your folks call him.”
“I don’t think so. Harry!” Her eyes narrowed, her teeth grinding out words. “I did not think you were a liar! I know he did not say that about me.”
Peace stared back through Harry’s eyes, dousing Belle’s flame. “Uh, but he did. To be honest, it floored me too. I didn’t know you well then and well… ah, kinda disagreed with him.”
Belle choked out a contemptuous laugh. “Yeah, I bet you did!”
“But I’ve changed my mind and can see what he was talking about. You do have remarkable redeeming qualities.”
Belle’s frown cemented in place, her head involuntarily shaking. She shuddered, seemed to settle, and then started dancing again. “I’m cold all of a sudden,” she said as she moved her hands inside Harry’s coat pocket and drew him close.
Harry never noticed when Belle’s deft fingers found the small box that held the thorn.
Chapter 14
Sarah could not believe her ears. She moved to the center of the tent, hands on hips, oblivious to anyone but her embedded mentor.
“Sword, why are you jealous? You know no one can take your place in my or Harry’s life. You are a precious gift to us. How can you think that we would ever abandon our friend? Liv is my friend, true, but that does not mean I no longer need you or enjoy your friendship! So stop being a toad and act like a mature person hundreds of years old should. You know enough about human and dragon nature not to emulate it! Set an example of maturity, not pettiness… good grief!”
The avatar of George Washington stood before Sarah’s scolding and hung its white head. She glared at it with one eyebrow cocked, waiting like a righteously indignant matriarch. After a few seconds, the avatar sighed and looked up as sheepishly as the countenance of the famous Virginian could. “You’re right, I know better. I suppose that continued exposure to humanity has taken its toll on me and I have started acting like you. Now if you are still willing, let’s compose—”
“Hold it right there, buddy!” a sharp female voice barked. “You may be able to fool these children, but I know you, you self-righteous egotistical pommel. I was there when you first saw the light of day and wasn’t impressed then and sure aren’t now. You apologize to this young woman right now!”
Sarah would have stepped back from the fray but couldn’t because both voices were coming from her own head, and she was the only one privy to their conversation, or so she thought. Sarah’s shocked expression caught Kusaila’s attention. His eyes narrowed as he turned quickly toward her. He placed his hands on either side of her face, then bowed his head, placing his ear on top of her head. Immediately he had access to the debate in her thoughts.
“I was waiting for you to interrupt. Just couldn’t keep your mouth shut, could you? As long as I’ve known you, I have watched you intervene where you were not wanted, manipulate and lie… You’re a dog-eared old codex with crumbling yellowed page ends.”
Sarah blinked and swallowed hard. She could not believe what she was witnessing. Her two esteemed counselors were fighting, tooth and toenail. Her neck jerked back and mouth gaped open when she saw another avatar step out from the recesses of her mind and form before her eyes. The figure of George Washington was also startled and stepped back. A tall athletic woman with dark brown hair and startling grey-blue eyes formed. She reminded Sarah of a golden age movie star she had seen while watching the movie channel with her grandparents. She wasn’t curvy, more like a swimmer than anything, dressed in overalls and old tennis shoes with one hand on her hip. Her eyes were narrowed and blazing, riveted on the sword’s Washington avatar.
Sarah’s eyes widened as she shook her disbelieving head. A large smile broke out on the George Washington avatar. He moved toward Liv’s manifested form. Liv put her hands out, effectively warding off Washington’s advance. And then in a cold, clipped, almost British Mid-Atlantic accent that seemed to purr more than pronounce, she said, “Uh-uh! Don’t think I’ve forgotten, Speaker. You need to apologize to Sarah and quit pretending you’re better than they are. We are simply polished reflections of them, and you know it. So, you own it now… and then maybe we can talk.”
George Washington Speaker Sword lit up at Liv’s phrase maybe we can talk. The avatar turned toward Sarah and cleared his throat. “Liv’s right, Sarah, I was an egotistical ass. It was petty and selfish of me to avoid you and not answer your calls for help. Please forgive me.” He made a quick glance at Liv’s new form and was rewarded with a nod, which caused another bright smile to break forth.
Sarah, still perplexed, felt she should almost curtsey given the formality of the apology but refrained. “Of course I forgive you, Speaker. After all, in some form or fashion we are all… human.” She saw a frown start to form on Washington’s face, only to be quickly dismissed as the whisper of an “uh-uh” escaped Liv’s lips. Then suddenly both avatars disappeared. And once again Sarah was left blinking and confused.
Kusaila shook his head, laughing as he pulled back from holding Sarah.
“Where’d they go? That was weird. One minute Speaker Sword is maintaining a hypocritical high ground, the next Liv calls him a battered ole pommel, then appears as a golden age movie starlet. Then they disappear.” She started to giggle. “That’s just weird. And wasn’t I supposed to be emailing Harry and telling him about a trap?”
Kusaila’s hands flew up in a heck if I know gesture. Sarah’s eyes narrowed; her face couldn’t decide whether to frown or giggle at her ancient companion’s antics and it left her perplexed. “Okay, so can I get this message to Harry now? Sword, are you there?” Sarah waited but didn’t hear any response in her thoughts, so she tried again. Then she heard a long sigh… it came from the sword, and then a giggle, which came from Liv. Sarah rolled her eyes. She gave Kusaila a look like I know what they’re doing. And then her brow furrowed. Can they do that?
Her curious thoughts were interrupted by an “Ahem!” Sarah grabbed her ears, and the voice softened. “Yes, Sarah, I am here. And from what I can determine by searching through some of your previous conversations with Kusaila, you feel you should reach out to Harry and warn him he is heading into a trap.”
“Yes, most certainly, Speaker. Kusaila and I both have had dreams and we both feel,” she looked at Kusaila to confirm what she had just said; he nodded and she continued, “that if we can warn Harry, maybe he can avoid the trap or at least be better prepared.”
The speaker answered, “Harry is very aware he is headed into a trap. Belle Rodum warned him. John Timothy has warned him. But Harry feels like he must go through with the mission and that he is better equipped than anyone else to complete the mission and survive it. I have helped him on several occasions and have seen his abilities grow. If anyone can stop the darkness of the time he is operating in, Harry can.”
Sarah listened intently, troubled by the speaker’s remark that Belle Rodum had warned Harry. As soon as she stumbled over the thought, the speaker added, “Sarah, Belle Rodum is in love with Harry, but he will not allow himself to l
ove her back. It grieves him that his daughter will not be born, and he mourns you as well. He has come to believe because you are so far in his past, at least a thousand years, that you are literally dead. And, in a sense, you are. To be honest, Sarah, he is acting like a man who doesn’t care whether he lives or dies. There is a darkness in his heart that has locked me out. He has thoughts he has not shared with me and that I have no power to pry into. I am afraid it is the witch’s influence. I don’t know what you could say to him that would help him. You are committed here. You are engaged to Kusaila, and Sarah, you have made the right choice.”
“May I add something to this conversation?” Liv the ancient manuscript asked.
“Certainly,” Sarah answered.
“I may be wrong, and Sword, let me know if you feel different, but Sarah, I think what may be holding Harry back from moving forward with Belle Rodum, and his own life, is hope. I think deep in his heart, Sword,” she looked up as the great Virginian’s image manifested, “in that place he has locked you out of, he still hopes that somehow, someway, Sarah will be restored to him. And that hope is making him sick. It’s draining his energies, keeping him from seeing the opportunity in front of him, and also dulling the edge he must have if he is going to survive the trap he is walking into. His life and the lives of his friends Brady and Raleigh are hanging in the balance, and you, Sarah, are the key. I think you need to take away the hope. If Harry finally realizes you will never be restored to him, it will be painful, but the infection of hope deferred will be cut out.”
Sarah, sitting on a pillow holding another against her chest, suddenly bent over and began to sob.
Startled, Kusaila, who had been locked out of the conversation by the speaker sword ever since the sword had begun speaking of how Belle Rodum was in love with Harry, moved closer to Sarah and held her. He didn’t know exactly what was happening but sensed something deep and precious was dying.
Sarah’s weeping turned to groans and then to seizures. She held tightly to her stomach muscles, gripping like she was in labor. She was falling into darkness, drowning in grief. Gradually the darkness surrendered to a very faint light. As she struggled to open her eyes, she felt cold. Then she realized she was no longer seated on soft feather pillows in Kusaila’s tent but on the hard, damp floor of a cavern. She tried to sit up and felt chains wrapped around her foot. She was back in the cavern where she had first met Harry.
Sarah heard the shuffle of a huge body and smelled the sour smell of dried blood and rotted meat. The evil dragon was close by. But it couldn’t be; these things had happened a thousand years ago. This must be a dream, but the images were clear—the rough floor of the cave, the putrid smell of unwashed flesh and feces, the cold, all screamed their reality. She tried to shake off the manifestation, her mind clawing through her memories, desperately trying to hold on to sanity. Her thoughts would not yield control. They raced across her mind. One minute her heart was breaking and her body revolting against the idea of… was it betrayal? Again? To scourge his heart again with the sharp-edged whip of her final rejection… was that what sent her back to this place? The dungeon of old memories, the place where she first betrayed Harry.
As Sarah relived the moment, she could hear the rasping, throaty voice of the dragon. He stepped back and growled, “You have no glory other than what I give you, girl! And the sooner you stop resisting me and surrender to that, the easier it is going to be.”
She remembered thinking that what the dragon was saying was true. But another voice buried deep within her heart whispered from far away, Don’t give up, Sarah. Don’t give up. Harry is coming.
As soon as she heard that voice, she grew angry and her thoughts shouted, No, he is not! He can’t help me; no one can help me. Harry is just a boy; he cannot defeat the dragon.
The whisper hardened. No, he is not just a boy any more than you are just a girl. Don’t give up, Sarah! You’re better than this.
Sarah was tormented and exhausted from the battle. The last of her hope fled.
The dragon’s serpentine eyes narrowed, and then he spoke. “Is Harry close by, Sarah?”
The old memory of the first moments of unfaithfulness nauseated her. She tried to pull out of them but could not break their bonds. She continued to remember the moments, the feelings… she was losing herself in the old memories, fading into the treachery.
A sickly-sweet smile rested on Sarah’s lips. Her hopelessness had smothered the whisper that argued with her. The betrayal began with a simple nod. “Yes, he is, dragon.”
The old worm huffed out a small blast of flame. He had finally broken her and she was handing over the boy!
“Where is he, Sarah?”
“He is hidden in those rocks up there,” she said, pointing toward the place where Harry had told her he was going to hide and ambush the dragon.
“Really?” The dragon’s lip curled in an arrogant smirk. He pointed toward the rock that Sarah had indicated. She confirmed with a slight tilt of her chin. It was getting easier to play the traitor.
Sarah looked back at the rocks high over the dragon’s head. It would have made a wonderful place to jump out from, but not now. Now the boy had to die. She had to surrender and the suffering had to stop. With one gesture she had condemned herself. The whisper that had tried to encourage her a few thoughts back now raged against her. How could you have done that? Harry has done his best to save you, he never gave up on you, and you just betrayed him!
The dragon, whose gaze had begun to sweep the high cavern walls, looked down on her. “Feels good, doesn’t it, Sarah? To betray an innocent soul? To surrender a would-be rescuer, to betray someone who loved you? A few more of these type of moments and you will grow so numb and so consumed with guilt that it will be your normal frame of mind. It’s really quite liberating. All restrictions removed, all moral chains broken and tumbling down like the rusty iron rotted braids they are. You really are like me at heart and soon you will be in body as well.”
Sarah began to tear up; then she noticed her hand as she moved it to wipe her eyes. It was rough and brittle scales were forming. The transformation had begun. She had given herself over to evil and it had begun to take her.
The dragon reared back its great head and sucked in mammoth gasps of wind then exhaled a torrent of flame. The rocks beneath its fiery spray turned red and began to melt; drops of newly formed lava trickled down the cave walls. A horrible shriek echoed throughout the cavern. At first Sarah thought Harry was burning to death. A heartbeat later she knew different. The dragon’s head buckled with a heavy weight. A man dressed in bronze armor with a glowing blue sword in his hand had jumped from the opposite wall behind the serpent’s head and landed on its neck. The beast bent beneath the rider and then screamed, its mighty wings beating, its claws grasping, trying to beat the figure off.
Sarah ducked to the cave floor and crawled as far as she could from the crushing steps of the dragon as it jumped and stomped, trying to throw the knight off. The dragon’s sharp talons got tangled in the chain that held her to the pole. One quick jerk and the chain broke, freeing Sarah to move further away from the battle. The dragon’s flames sprayed wildly. It tilted its head, trying to spew flame on its enemy. The knight only bent lower, his gloved hand holding a dagger he had shoved through one of the dragon’s scales. Sarah saw flames ripple beneath the knight’s feet and realized the flame was attached to his armor. The flames were spurs, burning hot spurs that gripped the leathery hide of the dark serpent and held the knight on the bucking beast.
A terrible scream escaped the dragon’s lips, causing Sarah to grab her ears and shriek. The beast bent low and with a great leap pushed up into the night. Carrying its enemy with it. A new plan must have formed in Romlott’s mind to throw off the rider. The dragon roared and blew out its white-hot breath against the cave ceiling that melted like wax beneath the spray. An instant later, covered in the melted rock, both dragon and rider broke into the night sky.
People from a hund
red miles away stared in shock as the night exploded. A bright light had burst from the mountain and was now casting its red glow for miles. A few seconds later those same people heard the roar of the dragon they feared. Only this time it was not so fearsome and was tinged with pain.
Sarah could see from where she had hidden that the cave ceiling had exploded. Her gaze was forced up and held by the battle raging directly above her. The knight appeared to be burning, but he had not stopped hammering the side of the dragon with the awful blue sword. Large gashes had been cut from the dragon’s side. It screamed its helpless fury and bucked like a storming bull she had seen years before among her father’s cattle. But the rider would not be thrown. His spurs held firm; his armor glowed; it was so hot from the melted rock the dragon had blasted out of the cave ceiling.
The dragon turned in midair, twisting, thrashing, clawing. It managed to scrape the knight’s leg, tearing a gash in the armor. Now blood spewed from the wound. But still the knight continued to slash the thrashing serpent. They were covered in flame and blood. Suddenly the dragon spasmed and twisted, turning its head back toward the gaping hole it had blasted in the cavern. It dived. As it did so, the knight let go of the dagger he had forced into the dragon’s neck and with both hands took the sword and shoved it into the back of the beast’s head.
The dragon’s death scream tore rocks from the cave walls as it fell, slamming into the side of the newly formed opening. The dragon rider grabbed the sword he had plunged into the back of the beast’s head, twisted it, and pulled back on it, forcing the head up, like an airplane pulling from a sharp dive into a controlled landing. The long neck hit the cavern floor and a second later the head burrowed into the rock, throwing rock and flame and dragon pieces across the cave.
The Harry Ferguson Chronicles Box Set Page 56